The Match Maker
by Skymouth
Summary: Detectives Bullock and Montoya are about to have a Valentine’s Day they’ll never forget thanks to the Joker. Sexual situations and language.
1. Default Chapter

The Match Maker

Part I

By Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins

A Batman Adventures Fanfic

Disclaimer: Batman and all subsequent characters are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing. Nothing I tell you! No money was made from this fic.

Rating: R

Summary: Detectives Bullock and Montoya are about to have a Valentine's Day they'll never forget thanks to the Joker. Sexual situations and language.

(Author's Note: Originally thought to make this one long chapter, but then thought it'd be easier to read if I broke it up into two parts. I thought it was about time there was a fic dedicated to my two fave GC:PD's Bullock and Montoya. M y Valentine's Day offering to the fanfic Gods! Enjoy!)

-

"This is bullshit, Jim!" Detective Bullock was never one who treaded lightly, even in the face of the one man who was probably his best friend. "That's what friggen underlings are for! Send one of them!"

Long used to his friend's gruff mannerisms, Commissioner Gordon shrugged off his detective's words without batting an eye. "It's election year, Bullock. The DA needs me on this inquest. I can't trust anyone else to not screw up fourteen months work."

"Com'on, Commish, you can't seriously be worried about that jerk outta Jersey takin' your bid?"

Gordon sighed, "I'm getting old, Bullock. The people might be in the vein for some new blood. Cohen has an impressive record and graduated from Quantico and doesn't remember the Nixon administration."

"You know that if you leave, half of our guys on the force will leave with you. Including me!" Bullock replied.

The Commissioner smiled and knew how loyal many of his people were to him. It heartened him during a time where he wondered about his own self worth. "Can't have that on my conscious."

"How long you going to be out?" Bullock knew he wouldn't be able to talk Jim out of going to Washington DC. They'd just wrapped up the last of a joint operation with the FEDS on a drug ring that spanned several states and unfortunately seemed to be initially run out of Gotham.

But they were interrupted as the door to the Commissioners office was opened and a very familiar feminine figure strolled inside.

"Daddy, I can't believe you've forgotten!" She breezed past Bullock and stood in front of the Commissioner.

"Barbara, what are you going on about?"

"The Valentines Day Charity Dinner. Hello. Two hundred dollars a plate. You bought four plates." Miss Gordon had her hands on her hips as she faced down her father. "And now I hear you're going out of town for a week?"

Gordon had the grace to look embarrassed at forgetting something that had been so obviously important to his only daughter. "I'm sorry, Barbara, but I can't back out of this."

Barbara let out a disheartened sigh, knowing just how hard her father worked, "Well, at least you never got around to asking someone out if only to forget about the whole ordeal."

"I'm really sorry, Honey. I'll make it up to you when I get back."

"Now Dick and I will be at the table all by ourselves."

"I have an idea, Bullock. How about you take my place?" Gordon turned back to his detective. "Might as well not let four hundred dollars go to waste, and anyway, I'm not so sure I want young Dick Grayson to be alone with my little girl."

"Daddy!" She snorted at her father's implication.

"Me, Commish?" Bullock was taken aback. "Wait, this is a Valentine's thing, right? Um, who's the fourth plate?"

Gordon shrugged, "Your date."

Bullock was positively scowling. "I'm supposed to find a date in three days? Get real, Jim!"

Barbara wasn't so sure she wanted her family's old friend as a dinner guest. She'd seen him eat and wanted to enjoy her own meal without having to witness him enjoying his. "Um, daddy, it's okay, I mean, it's not THAT big a deal."

"Now, Barbara, you've been looking forward to this for along time. I insist you go. Bullock, look after my daughter while I'm gone."

Harvey wasn't happy, but opted not to argue further. Both he and the younger Gordon were dismissed.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to Bullock." Barbara said as she walked side by side with the large man down the hall.

"I owe it to your dad to look after you if he asks me to. So I'm gonna do it." But he shook his head, "I just don't know how I'm going to find someone in three days."

Barbara patted his arm, "Come on, I'm sure there are plenty of pretty rookies you can ask whom you haven't rubbed the wrong way yet."

She grinned up at him and he sourly wondered if she was teasing him or not. He just grumbled to himself and pulled ahead of her.

He made his way to his unkempt desk after parting ways with the commissioner's daughter and his black mood darkened when he saw fellow Detective Montoya waiting for him there. "What?"

"Ever the charmer." She said frowning herself and tossed a file down on top of the trash-strewn desk.

"What's this?" Bullock didn't bother to pick the discarded file up.

"Thought you might like to see the end result that I'm turning in on our last little venture." She told him.

He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "I'm writing that report."

"I'm sure IA wouldn't mind hearing MY version of what happened. Why do I have a feeling I'm not in your report at all?" Montoya asked icily.

"You're in there." He sat heavily in his chair, ignoring her report that waited on his desk. "You just don't see the bigger picture, is all. That always was your trouble."

"And your imaginative view of the way things really are are what keeps you minus any sort of partner."

"I work better alone." He told her.

"Then that's the way you'll always be!" Montoya stormed away.

Bullock stared at her file as it sat there on his desk, then picked it up and tossed it in the overflowing trash bucket beside his desk. He didn't need someone to screw up his op. He was in charge of that particular sting, if the wrong people got the wrong ideas about how he'd gotten certain information, then the whole thing would go to hell.

He fished through the filth on his desk for the typewriter and began to circumnavigate through the final report.

-

The Joker sat in his latest hideout and was not smiling.

"What's wrong, Puddin?" Quinn asked as she traced a finger lazily up his purple coat sleeve.

"Valentine's Day." He replied monotonously.

Quinn squealed in excitement. How could she have forgotten one of her favorite days?

"So many people will be happy on that day. I need to find someone who deserves a prank so hysterical that they'll die from humiliation!"

"Not Batman?" Quinn wondered that he would have left out the most obvious choice.

"Nah. He's getting so predictable. No fun at all." The Joker harrumphed as he flopped down into his cushioned chair. "We need someone fresh and fun. Someone we haven't quite broken in yet."

Quinn disappeared and then returned with a huge file that was so full it was literally leaking its contents out onto the floor.

"Here's your latest list of human hobbies!" Quinn dumped the heavy pile of the pathetic humans the Joker kept tabs on as toys into his lap.

"Been there, done that, Harley." The Joker sighed. "We need something closer to home, you know what I mean?" He tossed the gluttonous folder away and it rained paper for a few quiet minutes as he sat and thought.

"So- who, Boss?" Quinn wondered.

-

Bullock groaned. "You gotta be kidding."

Montoya had to agree. "This is ridiculous. Why would I agree to doing this?"

"Because you're doing a favor for a friend." Barbara said all smiles. "Shouldn't that be enough? Besides, if Daddy checks up on me, don't you want to be able to truthfully say that you were there keeping an eye on me, Bullock?"

Bullock eyed Montoya. "This doesn't go beyond us, okay?"

"I know I won't ever speak of it anywhere else." Montoya eyed him back.

"Great, it's a date! See both of you tonight at six!" Barbara beamed at them and departed.

"You'd better be cleaned up by then." Montoya pierced the detective with her gaze then turned on her heel and stalked away.

Christ! A friggen date with Montoya. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to find someone- don't let anyone tell him he hadn't tried- there just had been no takers was all. None. Zippo. So before he knew what was going on, Miss Gordon had stepped up and taken care of that problem for him. That was embarrassing enough. But why did it have to be Montoya, of all people? The Commish had tried to put them together as partners before and it hadn't worked out. He had a feeling someone was going to end up bloodied before the end of the night and he had a nasty feeling it would most likely be him.

Montoya put her earrings on and took one last long look in the mirror. Since it was Valentine's Day, she wore a vibrant red dress that was nearly floor length and slit up the sides to make walking sort of possible. Her hair was pinned up and she wore natural looking make up. She wasn't dressing up for Bullock, she was dressing up because she liked to and because it was a formal dinner. She leaned against the counter and heard the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself she was doing a friend a favor and went to answer the door.

"Let's just get this over with, okay, Montoya?" Bullock was there, hair slicked back close to his head and was wearing what she suspected to be a rented tux. She followed the detective to his car.

She scowled at his lack of comment on how she looked, so she refrained from complimenting him. Childish, she knew, but at the moment, she didn't care. Bullock hesitated at the door, then went ahead and opened the passenger door for her, much to her surprise. She slid into her seat, after wiping some stray crumbs and empty wrappers onto the floor. He shut the door and went around to his side.

The entire drive over was spent in uncomfortable silence. Montoya unhappily stared out the window and knew that dinner was going to be a very painful experience. Barbara was going to owe her big time for this guaranteed fiasco.

The food was good. For two hundred dollars a plate, it had better, Bullock had thought. The company was a bit strained. Conversation was stilted and often halted all together. There was dancing. Barbara and Dick had gone to the floor to dance. Bullock didn't dance. And anyway, he doubted Montoya would have wanted to dance with him even if he knew how.

So they sat there, Montoya fidgeted with her silverware, bored and already looking forward to relaxing at home with a good book and a glass of wine- alone. Luckily, things were looking like they were winding down. People were starting to leave. They eventually walked Barbara and Dick to the kids car and saw them off. Bullock led the way to his car in silence and opened the door for her again.

When he clicked on his seat belt, he barely looked in her direction when he said, "You looked real nice tonight, Montoya."

She smiled. "Thanks, Bullock. Thanks for behaving yourself."

He grunted in response and pulled the car out of the lot. It had begun to rain. The roads were already slicking up, looking shiny and new under the headlights. There was a long stretch of nothing where he picked up speed. The ride back was just as silent as the ride over, but not quite as uncomfortable.

A car passed them and cut them off, nearly catching their front fender in the process.

"SHIT!" Bullock swore and swerved to give the aggressive car some extra room. He tried to correct, but the roads were too wet and his tires too worn. The car spun out, going from the right side of the road clear to the shoulder on the opposite side. The guard rails bent against the weight of the car and sparks shot out in a loud, screeching rain. They eventually came to a shuddering halt, the drivers side was crumpled in from the impact. "Goddammit! What the hell is the matter with that driver?" He looked over to Montoya, "You all right?"

A little shaken, Montoya took a moment to collect herself. "I'm okay. You?"

Bullock nodded and glared out of the window. "Jerk never stopped. Christ, if only I had gotten his license number, I'd be all over his ass tomorrow!"

"You are insured, right?" Montoya could see that his door was jammed up and would probably not open without assistance from the Jaws of Life.

"Of course." He grumbled and then tried to start the car. After nearly ten tries he leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Well that's just great."

"Someone's pulled over." Montoya said with relief as she watched the vehicle slide up to a stop on her side of the car. Probably a responsible citizen who saw the accident, she thought gladly. Why did Bullock always want to think the worst of people when she knew there were always those who would surprise them? She rolled her window down ignoring the rain that drizzled in her face. "Hey there."

The passenger door opened on the other car behind the driver's side. A man surpassing Bullock in size stepped out and approached Montoya. He leaned in and before Montoya could react, had a hold of her wrist in an iron grip and a gun in her very surprised face.

The man noticed Bullock make a move and sneered.

"Don't." There was an audible click as the man pulled the hammer back on his gun. It was still in Montoya's face and never wavered.

Bullock froze.

"Very good. You follow orders, cop. Now, why don't you and your lady friend step into our car?" The man sounded oh so reasonable.

It wasn't as if they could refuse. The man opened Montoya's door for her. He had to release her but still kept the gun trained on her head. She obediently stepped out and with his urging, got into the backseat of the other vehicle.

"Now you, fat boy." The gun was now zeroed in on Bullock's temple.

Bullock gave the man looks that could kill but managed to scoot over to the passenger side and exited the car, eyes never leaving the threat to his head.

"Don't you wanna check to see if I gotta gun?" Bullock queried the man, trying to stall. Everything would be over if both of them were stuck in that car.

The big bad man grinned and it wasn't a pleasant look. "That ain't my job. Yo, Bosco."

Bosco, Bullock grimaced. Of course. If that was the man's real birth name, poor schmuck didn't have much of a chance at any other kind of work then bodyguard or henchman. Big Bad's seeming twin stepped out of the passenger side of the front seat. Of course he had a gun. Didn't all good henchmen? Both guns were aimed at Bullock's head. So much for options, the detective thought morosely to himself and he had to allow Bosco to frisk him. The small nine-millimeter was found tucked in the back of his pants. Well, so much for wrestling Big Bad and surprising him with his gun.

Bullock was shoved into the car and nearly fell on top of Montoya. Big Bad scooted in next to Bullock who was sandwiched in between their new friend and Montoya. Bosco sat up front next to the nameless driver. The car pulled out and sped down the road.

Bullock had to wonder- what the hell did these people want?

To Be continued-


	2. Part II

The Match Maker

Part II

By Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins

A Batman Adventures Fanfic

Disclaimer: Batman and all subsequent characters are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing. Nothing I tell you! No money was made from this fic.

Rating: R

Summary: Detectives Bullock and Montoya are about to have a Valentine's Day they'll never forget thanks to the Joker. Sexual situations and language.

(Author's Note: Okay, looks like this is turning out a little longer then I first guessed. At least one more chapter to go. Trying to decide about whether or not to add the sex scene I had originally planned. Would like to hear from ya'll if you're ready for a nice and hot sex scene between Bullock and Montoya. Lol, 'course, not sure if any of ya'll are ready for any kind of hanky panky between those two either, coerced or otherwise.)

-

Bullock and Montoya had been ushered from the car and into a giant, empty warehouse that looked like it had been deserted for quite some time. Both were encouraged to move towards a small room at one end of the warehouse at gunpoint. Bosco and Big Bad had been joined by two more tough looking gun toting goons while the driver left in the opposite direction by himself. Probably to fetch the boss, Bullock guessed.

"You want to tell us what this is all about?" Bullock asked, not particular on which goon answered.

"That's for the boss to say. We're just following orders." Big Bad said from behind his gun.

"Your firearm is illegal." Montoya told him without turning as they continued the march.

That brought an abrupt laugh out of Big Bad. "And so is abducting two cops, but who's keeping track?"

Bullock bit back a cryptic response. It wouldn't be the smartest thing to get these guys angry. At least, not until he knew the score. Once in the room, he spied a length of rope laying on something that looked like an examination table in a doctor's office. He had a bad feeling about the rope and hoped he was wrong as to what its intended use was going to end up being.

"You two, embrace each other with hands behind the others backs." Bosco commanded.

"Now wait just a minute!" Bullock wanted to protest but a gun was suddenly touching his temple and he grew quiet, though inside he was still bursting with indignation.

He faced Montoya, towering over her. The look in her face was plain. Well, he wasn't happy about it either but it wasn't as if they had much of a choice. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and she tried to do the same around his abundant one, but was unable to clasp her hands behind his back. But that didn't seem to phase the bad guys who promptly began to tie them up in that awkward position.

After they were secured, their bad guy entourage departed without a word, locking the room up as they left. Montoya pretty much had no choice but to rest her head against Bullocks chest. Bullock didn't say a word, thankfully, and neither did she. Just when she was wondering how long they'd be forced to stay like that, someone opened the only door in the tiny room.

"Aw, aren't they just the cutest things?" The laughter in that voice was even more recognizable to Montoya then the voice alone. She couldn't see over Bullock's shoulder but knew just who the speaker was.

"Joker!" Bullock nearly spat and turned to see their new visitor and the man that was obviously Big Bad's and Bosco's boss. Montoya had to turn her head to see the deranged clown. Harley was beside him with the same broad grin on her face as her boss.

The Joker could not contain his merriment, "Now, now, this is the day for sweethearts. I do believe you have yet to even give her a kiss, Bullock."

"She's NOT my sweetheart!" Bullock growled dangerously.

Montoya froze and dropped her gaze to stare at the floor, not liking the Joker's suggestion at all.

"By the end of tonight, she will be." The Joker sniggered, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Like hell!" Bullock spat.

The Joker shoved a full color glossy picture of Barbara Gordon in Bullock's face. "Friend of yours?"

Bullock paled. "You friggen maniac! You do anything to her and I'll rip you a new one!"

"Tsk, tsk, my fat friend. I think that you should be very careful with what you say and what you do. If you want to see her again and unharmed, I think you should do as I say."

"What have you done with her?" Bullock demanded and strained against the ropes, much to Montoya's discomfort.

"You mind me, and nothing will happen to her." Joker grinned unpleasantly.

"What do we have to do?" Bullock reluctantly asked, taking one more look at the picture, terrified of the possible consequences of disobeying.

The Joker clapped his hands happily after tossing the picture of Barbara up in the air. "See, Harley, he can be taught!"

"With the right incentive, huh Puddin?"

The Joker laughed with maniacal glee. He skipped up to Bullock's side, a very unpleasant look twisting his face, "This would be so much easier if you two weren't tied up. Think you can follow orders without having to have a gun in your face?"

Bullock knew that the Joker knew he'd do anything to keep Barbara Gordon safe. Even agree to not strangling the clown once his hands were freed from the rope. Bullock didn't say anything, knowing his silence was enough of an answer. The Joker had Harley cut them free. Bullock clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively, just imagining twisting that white throat and the joy that would bring him.

"So, Montoya, be a good girl and go to that table over there, would you?" The Joker pointed at the lonely looking gurney.

"Montoya." Bullock warned.

Montoya shook her head at him, just as willing to do what it took to make sure that no harm came to the Commissioner's daughter. She scooted herself up onto the gurney, uncertainly eyeing the people that surrounded it.

The Joker tossed Harley a purple and green walkie-talkie. "Just like I told you, Harl, my girl."

"You are so big hearted, boss." Harley blew the Joker a kiss before leaving the three of them alone.

"So, now it's just me and you and a dog named Boo." The Joker smiled sardonically. "Bullock. What are you doing down here when your sweetheart is so lonely up there all by herself?"

Bullock gave the Joker a look that could kill, but with some great effort, he managed his way up onto the gurney, nearly knocking Montoya off. The gurney quaked with the added weight but miraculously held them both.

"So?" Bullock growled, unable to look Montoya in the eye.

"Kiss." The Joker said reasonably.

Montoya couldn't move even though her first instinct was to run. Bullock was well within reaching distance from her, something she did not often encourage on her own time. He was staring her down, his face unreadable. Then he moved, fast. A peck on the cheek… chaste, painless, almost nonexistent.

"Oh come on, Bullock. You can do better then that!" Joker chastised the cop.

"What is it you want, Joker?" Bullock asked.

"Lips. Let her know you mean it!"

Montoya was at the edge of the gurney, the urge to rush the door was greater then ever. But under the weight of Bullock's gaze, she could barely move. She was proud of herself for staying put when he moved back in closer to her. He was there. Right in front of her face so that she could feel and smell his breath. He took a hold of her chin lightly with the tips of her fingers and lifted it up slightly. She stared into his eyes. It looked like he was trying to tell her something with that look. I'm sorry? Just get it over with, she thought to herself. As if in answer, he kissed her again. It was a little longer and definitely more sensual then the first peck had been. When he pulled away, he still had that apologetic look on his face. Montoya was surprised that the man knew how to kiss so well.

"O-o-o! Be still my heart!" The Joker gushed. "That is just the cu-u-u-utest thing!"

Bullock was deadly silent, looking everywhere else but at Montoya.

"Well?" Joker prompted.

"Well what?" Bullock was afraid to ask.

"Don't stop on my account."

Bullock stared over at the Joker. "What?"

The crazy man gestured at them, "Continue."

"Montoya." Bullock balked, not certain he could continue without a gun in his face.

"Bullock. If it's to keep Barbara safe, then, well…" Montoya didn't want it any more then Bullock did, but she was giving him permission if only to keep Miss Gordon from harm. She reached for him and drew him closer. "Then we got to do what we got to do." She pulled him in and kissed him.

The Joker stood back and watched as two of Gotham's finest made out, if only under duress, in front of him. His face was unreadable, as if he were wearing a mask.

It'd been a while since he'd kissed anyone like he was kissing Montoya. If the circumstances had been just a tad bit different, it would have been most pleasurable. It wasn't even so much so that it was with Montoya, it was just the whole thing with the Joker and Barbara. It sort of killed the buzz.

"Bored, bored, bored." The Joker sighed dangerously.

Montoya found it hard to relax with the man watching her with those piercing green eyes. She slightly panicked when he broke her concentration with his calm threat. The Joker was upping the stakes and she had to wonder just how far he was willing to take the game.

She wrapped her arms around Bullock and forced her tongue into his surprised mouth. He managed to respond in turn after a few moments of gathering his wits. It was so hard to perform in front of an audience, even if that audience was only one. She continued to French him, trying not to imagine what would happen to her if she stopped.

"Well, Bullock?" Joker asked from his vantage point.

Bullock wasn't sure what to make of his comment.

"Bases aren't all loaded yet."

Bullock inwardly sighed. Montoya hesitated for just a moment in kissing him, but then continued, tongue delving deeper as if giving him permission to just do it. He reached up and cupped her breast, messaging it uncertainly as if afraid it'd break, or that he would be smacked. He couldn't help it, even despite the circumstances, he started to get those burning urges below. He was Frenching and caressing a beautiful woman, it would have taken considerable work for him to NOT be turned on eventually.

Montoya knew the Joker would be waiting for even more and began to pull Bullock's shirt out of his pants. Her hands roved his broad chest from under his shirt as they continued to seek each other's tonsils with their tongues.

She had to change her sitting position. Leg cramp. Without breaking contact, she maneuvered herself up onto her knees, temporarily towering over Bullock, then swung first one leg around, then the other until she straddled the gurney. Her dress was pulled up almost revealing her panties. Bullock had to brace himself with one hand or else he'd fall on top of her. Montoya had to break for some air. It should have been more obscene then it was. She gasped for breath and stared at him. Her hands were still clutching at his chest and he still had a hold of hers. Part of her couldn't help but wonder if Bullock was still fully disgusted with the activity or was aroused on some level. Then she had to wonder why she cared one way or another.

"Usually clothes start coming off at this point." The Joker suggested mildly.

Bullock swallowed hard. He didn't know if he could do it. But there was more then just his pride on the line. It was just so wrong. He knew he'd done many crummy things in his life. Lot's of those he could live with. But he'd never forced himself on a woman. That was something he didn't know he could forgive. Never mind that there was the life of a loved one on the line. He quickly looked up when he felt Montoya undo his bow tie and then began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I can't, Montoya." He ignored the pulse in his groin that said otherwise.

She slid his shirt down off his shoulders, the jacket bunched up at his wrists. "You have to raise your arms for this to work." She said gently.

Reluctantly, he did so. His jacket and shirt were cast aside with his tie.

"Now her." Joker quipped.

Bullock reached behind her back and found the zipper to her dress. He took a deep breath and then slowly drew the zipper down. The straps slipped off her shoulders revealing her bright red pushup bra. The dress fell down around her waist. He never realized how tiny she was. Of course, compared to him, almost anyone would be seen as a rake, he figured sourly.

"What are you two stopping for? You're still clothed."

Montoya stared down at Bullock's fly looking like it was something dangerous. The image of Barbara being harmed at the hands of the Joker was enough to spurn her forward. She gestured for him to get up on his knees. He did so and she proceeded to pull his pants down. Thank God he was wearing what looked like clean underwear. For some reason, she had suspected that all his boxers were riddled with holes… not that she spent hours a day thinking about Bullock's underwear. Honest. The thought had just hit her was all.

Shoes, socks, and then the pants came off the rest of the way until all Bullock was wearing was his boxers.

"Tit for tat, Bullock." Joker snickered at his pun.

Bullock sighed and reached around her back again, releasing the bra. He couldn't help it. He was a guy. He knew he was staring at her and couldn't stop himself from it. He took her dress and pulled it up and over her head. Now they were both just in their underwear. Please just let it end there, Bullock feverishly wished but had a sinking feeling that someone like the Joker wouldn't just stop there.

"Well? Come on, now. I swear, you two are just impossible! Do you want me to go in there and take it all off for you? Must I do EVERYTHING? Haven't you people EVER had SEX before?" The Joker asked dangerously and began to approach them.

Bullock's head whipped around. "WHAT?"

Joker shook his head at a complete loss. "You know, you're a man… well, sort of, and she's a woman, and this is the most romantic day of the year." The Joker brought his hands together.

Montoya felt the heat of embarrassment in her face. She was exposed, not only in front of Bullock, but in front of one of the most dangerous men in Gotham. She let her hair hang in front of her face and just wanted to melt away and disappear. And now it seemed that going all the way had been the ultimate goal of the Joker's all along.

"Looks like I'll have to finish for you, Bullock, if you wont do it." Joker sneered at the man.

"You lay a hand on her, so help me God, I'll hollow your skull out with a long handled spoon through your ass!" Bullock spat, preparing to leap onto their tormenter.

"Such strong words when the life of a loved one is on the line." The glossy print of Barbara was once more shoved into his face. "I thought you'd be willing to do ANYTHING to see her get back safely to daddy?"

"How do we even know she's here and in danger?" Bullock asked logically.

Joker grinned then talked into walkie-talkie, "Harley? Let's hear her."

"You got it, Puddin." Came the response.

There was a pause then Barbara's voice clearly was heard on Harley's end, "Hello? Bullock? Are you there?"

Joker's smile widened and he switched off his end. "Need more incentive?"

The blood seemed to have run out of Bullock's face. "What have you done to her?"

"Nothing… yet." The Joker replied. "Are you two going to continue to do nothing?"

Bullock looked back at Montoya who was now peering up at him with the same look of a mouse confronted by a snake. It took everything she had to reach down and remove his boxers from the equation. She didn't look down. Her eyes were locked on a point on his shoulder. Just because she had to have sex, didn't mean she had to look. She stiffened as she felt Bullock pluck at her panties. She had no choice but to relinquish them without complaint.

Bullock noticed that she refused to look down. Of course he noticed, he was a cop and cops noticed everything. He was rather proud of himself for not taking visual liberties of her full body even though he had every opportunity to do so.

"I can't do this, Montoya. I can't… rape you."

Finally Montoya looked back at him, eyes locked. "It wont be rape if I guide you in." She laid back and drew him down with her.

To Be Continued-


	3. Part III

The Match Maker

Part III

By Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins

A Batman Adventures Fanfic

Disclaimer: Batman and all subsequent characters are owned by DC Comics. I own nothing. Nothing I tell you! No money was made from this fic.

Rating: R

Summary: Detectives Bullock and Montoya are about to have a Valentine's Day they'll never forget thanks to the Joker. Sexual situations and language.

-

She tried to relax and just let Bullock do his thing. But the Joker was there, watching every move. How could she not tense up? At least Bullock's bulk let her hide from the clown's prying eyes. She didn't have to work very hard at hiding and for some reason felt somewhat safer under him.

Bullock tried his best to be gentle. But she was tense, hell, HE was tense and so things weren't as smooth or as pleasant as he would have liked. He pushed in again, each movement evoking a primitive thrill. Bullock couldn't help it. Sex was sex in the end. Somehow, granted, it'd taken work, but he'd managed to completely zone out the Joker. It was just him and Montoya. She moved under him, responding to his thrusts in the way a woman should respond to a man. He groaned and shuddered and she answered in back bending twists and moans. They sweated and panted and moved together.

He noticed that she clung to him reflexively, drawing him down even closer. She burrowed her face into his shoulder. She was a strong-minded woman and such kinds of submission were always withering. She began to tremble in his arms and it took a moment for him to realize that she was crying silently.

Shit! His own ego took a stab for that. His mind was forced back into the now. Damn the Joker to hell! How was he supposed to face Montoya after this? It was still rape in his mind, even though she'd taken him in hand and pushed him in herself. It took everything he had to keep from pulling out and calling it quits. But he feared the consequences of fouling up the Joker's sick plans. He closed his eyes. Bullock never had to concentrate on keeping from going limp before. Closing out images of the Joker and of a sobbing Montoya helped, if only minutely. If he ever got out of this alive, he was going to go get seriously drunk after all was said and done.

It took longer then usual to peak, if only because of all of the extenuating circumstances. He wanted to ask her if she would be much longer, but was afraid of saying anything at all. For all he knew, she was too tense to get anything from it. He kept trying to fool himself by saying it was all because of the Joker. But even he knew better. Bullock felt her tense up even more, if that was possible. Her back arched and she couldn't suppress a groan in response.

Bullock pulled out immediately but stayed there on top of her, acting as a shield against the Joker. He didn't know what to do. She was still clutching at him, but at least she'd stopped trembling.

"Montoya?" He whispered into her ear uncertainly.

She shook her head, reluctant to face him.

"I'm sorry."

She squeezed him in response, but wouldn't lift her head so he could see her face. He sighed guiltily. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Well now, I'd say we had a rather climactic evening, didn't we?" The Joker piped up from only inches away.

"Get the hell away!" Bullock forgot himself and popped Joker in the nose with his fist. Then he realized his error and turned whiter then the Joker as he held out the offending fist like it would explode. "Oh shit! I-I-I-"

Blood dribbled down the Joker's overly pronounced snout. But instead of the vengeful reaction he expected, the Joker began to snicker. It bubbled and grew into a full-blown braying laugh. The clown prince of crime had to wipe a tear from his eye as he tried to unsuccessfully stem the over zealous bleeding nose.

"My dear Montoya, you can get dressed now." The Joker managed between giggles.

Montoya lifted her head. Bullock didn't comment on the blotchy and streaked mess that ran down her face from crying. She looked like she hadn't heard the Joker right and stayed as if glued to her place.

"Get out of here while you can." Bullock urged her.

She finally stared up at him, eyes all red. Her hair was all in disarray. Her expertly applied make up was now a shambles.

"I'm serious, Montoya. Get out of here!"

"But… you?"

Bullock tried to smile, but only managed to grimace instead, "Beat it."

Montoya nodded dully and slithered out from under Bullock in a rather unwomanly like fashion. But she was going more for speed rather then modesty. Of course, it was difficult to be modest when you were fully naked and just had exhibitionist sex. Clothes were hastily thrown on. One look back, then she was quite literally shoved out the door by the Joker.

"Don't worry, Bullock. She's allowed one phone call then she's free to go." The Joker replied calmly as if Bullock hadn't just given him a bloody nose.

Bullock didn't look like he wanted to believe him, but what choice did he have?

"What the hell happens now?" Bullock wanted to know. He didn't trust the Joker one bit and had a nasty image of Montoya being manhandled just on the other side of that door. Of course, what had HE just done to her? Bullock sighed once more.

The Joker grinned. "Why, whatever do you mean, Bullock?" The crazy clown approached Bullock and before he knew it, the cop had his hands cuffed behind his back.

It took everything for the cop to not tackle the evil swine.

The Joker shook his head, "Manners, Bullock. What, no 'thank you for a wonderful evening?' I just set you up with a chick that you'd NEVER been able to score with on your own. This one night of love and the both of you treat it like it was spending a night in hell. Was she really THAT bad a lay, Harv?"

Bullock grit his teeth and balled his fist, trying not to rise to the bait. It was difficult to be intimidating when you were naked, even when you out bulked your foe by a hundred pounds or more. "Leave her out of this, I'm warning you!"

"But she's the whole reason I set up this latest… escapade." The Joker responded.

"Um, what?" Bullock didn't have to pretend to be mystified.

"Valentine's Day, fat boy. You lucky stiff, your name came up on my list!" The Joker said almost companionably, "So I thought what better way to spend my Valentine's Day then with my two most favorite cops in Gotham?"

"I'll kill you for this one day, I swear to friggen GOD! You made me hurt her!" Bullock nearly screamed at him.

The Joker raised his hand up and tutted Bullock. "You had free will for the duration of tonight's events."

"Like HELL! What about Barbara?" Bullock wanted to know.

The Joker let out a fresh bark of laughter.

"What's so friggen funny you freak?"

The Joker snickered uncontrollably, "Never here. Never."

"What? But her voice… over the walkie-talkie." Bullock was very confused.

"Harley called her over the phone. You heard Harl put her walkie-talkie over the receiver was all. She's safe and sound back at dear ole' dad's. God, I'm such a genius! Long distance torture!" The Joker burst into a gut wrenching laugh, "Reach out and kill someone!"

Bullock nearly spat at him, "You are so lucky she's okay or else you'd be dead now!"

But the Joker just laughed some more and grabbed him up, hauling him right off the gurney. Bullock landed hard and off balance, but the Joker kept a tight hold of him and shoved him out of the room, still keeping a tight grip on him and laughed his ass off as they walked.

He didn't struggle. Bullock allowed himself to be led quietly, if only because he was still trying to digest the past events of the night. It still didn't make any sense to him. But maybe it just wasn't meant to. Since when did anything the Joker set out to do have to have a rhyme or reason? They came to a door and stopped.

"Be a good cop and wait right here." The Joker commanded.

Bullock actually did as he was told and waited as the Joker unlocked the door. He opened the door and with a big grin on his face, shoved the big cop out the door and into the cold, wet night. The door was slammed shut and he heard the mechanism lock.

Stunned, Bullock looked around him, noting he was now outside the compound. It was probably well past midnight by now. Also the rain had started up again. He was effectively stranded. Wonderful. A perfect end to a perfect night.

He had to get out of there. The Joker had left him cuffed. A further indignation and completely intentional, Bullock was certain. He was also still in the buff. Well, at least the Joker had let Montoya scrape up what was left of her dignity and allowed her to dress.

Bullock began walking, ignoring the steady drizzle that had his hair totally soaked. He wondered if Montoya actually was allowed to leave. Should he go back and make sure? What could he possibly do if he did? He didn't have a gun anymore. All he had was his fists and that hadn't done a hell of a lot of good, of course, they were both cuffed together now, so that sort of buggered that.

He was temporarily blinded by the twin beams of headlights as they fell on him. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at the hood of a car that had apparently been waiting for him. Ambush? Bullock thought wildly and dove for the nearest cover which happened to be between a massive trash bin and the wall. His heart sped up again and he tried to figure out how he could take down an enemy with his hands cuffed behind his back. Bullock leaned up against the filthy trash bin and waited to be set upon.

"Bullock!"

That shout gave him pause. He took a few breaths in an attempt to force his heart back down his throat. "Montoya?"

"Get in the car! Hurry!"

Thank God! A rescue! He moved out from behind his hiding spot, hunched over, fully aware of his nudity. Ah screw it! He made a run for the car. The back passenger door opened and he slid into the backseat, fully soaked and fully ready to get the hell out of there.

He saw it was Barbara behind the wheel and Montoya was beside her. His mouth was clamped shut and he couldn't meet Montoya's gaze. He sat there dripping on the seat, sitting there awkwardly because of the cuffs, exposed and vulnerable. It was insane. He hadn't felt vulnerable in front of the Joker. But now, being in the car alone with two women he knew very well, naked and guilty of raping one, he did. Bullock sat there, hunched over and cursing himself for being so weak to have given into the Joker's wiles.

Thankfully neither Montoya nor Barbara spoke a word. He imagined Montoya had most likely told all to the Commissioner's daughter. Both probably totally despised him by now. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. So he sat in the back, waiting for the ride to be over, waiting for his life to be over.

He supposed he could always transfer. It wasn't like he had any family ties that kept him in Gotham. The Gordon's were the closest things to family he had there and he suspected that was going to be gone as well. He wouldn't blame them at all either. He was so screwed and knew it.

The entire ride, he kept waiting for Montoya to say something. To yell at him, berate him, cry… anything. But she didn't turn around once after they had drove away. He watched the back of her head. She wasn't watching the scenery, she wasn't paying attention to Barbara… she might as well have not even been there in the first place. He began to wonder if he should even bother returning to work at all. He could always call in sick, wait for Gordon to return from DC and then put in his transfer. Sounded like a plan.

At long last they arrived at Bullock's residence.

During the ride, he had managed to bring his arms forward by swinging them under his legs. He didn't want to be left out there again cuffed, even if he was home.

"Keys." Bullock said simply and raised his cuffs up into both girls' view as they turned around.

Wordlessly, Montoya fished out a cuff key from the depths of her purse. She freed him without looking at him once. Bullock rubbed his wrists as she placed the cuffs into her purse. Bullock didn't even wonder that she seemed to have done so out of habit. It was a cop thing, after all.

A thank you seemed very inadequate. More was needed, but he couldn't think of anything to say, no apology great enough to matter. And besides, he didn't want to do it in front of Barbara. So he slid out of the car, still as naked as when he first got in. But at least he was free, as well as Montoya and Barbara. It was a good thing it was so late or else he would have had second and third thoughts about getting out of the car at all without a stitch of clothes on.

He spent a sleepless night alone with unpleasant thoughts. Dawn arrived all too soon and he had to decide on whether or not he'd even show up to work that day. It hardly seemed worth it. Montoya had seen enough of him the previous night, she didn't deserve to be subjected to him again all day the next day. So he lay there in bed with his boxers on, staring up at the discolored ceiling tile. Screw it, screw it all.

No way was he going to move to the west coast. He was as east as they came. Maybe he should make some calls… see who had some Detective slots open. He'd never been terribly picky. Hell, he'd even go to New Jersey if it came down to it.

A knock on the door. Bullock lay still, his arm thrown up over his eyes as he willed the person to leave. A moment passed, he lifted his arm. Well, that'd been easy.

The knock was repeated, louder this time and managed to sound impatient.

"Christ!" Bullock spat and rolled out of bed. He trudged his way to the door unconcerned that he was just in his underwear. Let the disturber of his peace beware, he thought sourly and opened the door. "Jeeze, Montoya?"

It looked like Montoya had gotten a few hours sleep. Definitely had gotten in a shower sometime. Bullock was suddenly self-conscious of his lack of dress even though she'd seen him in even less not five hours ago. His eyes dropped, very aware of her crisply pressed officer blues and neatly arranged hair and make up.

"Johnson was going to look for you when you didn't show. I volunteered to. I had a feeling…" Montoya said quietly and shrugged.

Bullock backed into his apartment, retreating. Silent, guilty.

Montoya invited herself in and closed the door, not wishing for any neighbor to happen in on something that was private. Bullock bumped up against the arm of his ratty couch.

"You going to clean yourself up and get dressed for work?" She asked him calmly.

"I can't. Not after what… not after what I did to you." Bullock's eyes darted around the room looking for a path of escape. "Why aren't you angry at me? You should be screaming at me!"

"Would that make you feel better?" Montoya asked.

"Aren't you angry at all? Please, Montoya! You wept on my shoulder, for cryin' out loud! I made you cry! Hit me! I mean it!"

"Bullock." The thought had been there. To lash out at him. Make him hurt. To scream and pound her fists into his solid form. And she was tempted. So tempted to hit him that she had to shake herself free from that. She would not lose control. Not now. She was a better cop then that. Her moment of weakness had been when she'd cried during the act. Now, after all was said and done, there was no going back to alter things. In her mind, it had not exactly been rape. When she'd thought she was doing something to save another's life, she had become a willing participant, no matter that her personal morals had tried to get in the way. "You can't do this to yourself. I was willing. Willing to do anything to save Barbara."

"What now? What do we do now? Go back and work together and act like nothing happened? What about Barbara?" Bullock wanted to know.

"I didn't tell her everything, Bullock." Montoya told him. "No one else has to know. It's no one's business."

"But how could you stand to work with me now?" Bullock hung his head. He felt her press up against him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"I couldn't stand to work with you then." The hug took the sting out of those words. "Come to work with me."

Bullock hugged her back uncertainly and then was relieved when she pulled away.

"I need a shower."

"Yes. You do."

"Don't suppose you want to, well…"

"No. I don't."

Bullock nodded. "Just checking."

-

Montoya was glad when Gordon returned. Johnson was an okay guy, but things just seemed to naturally fall into place when Gordon had a hold of things. It had been two days since Valentine's Day. Bullock always tried to make sure there was several arm lengths in between them when they'd be in the same room. It was awkward and she was glad she had an assignment that had her away from her desk for most of her shifts since. She and Bullock hadn't spoken a word to each other either. Luckily, no one noticed. She and Bullock were typically at odds and the precinct was used to the silent treatments by now.

She'd been called into the Commissioner's office within the first hour of her shift that day. Curious, she entered the modest office and closed the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" She asked.

Gordon nodded from behind his desk and set a file he'd been reading down on it's surface.

"Just wanted to commend you on the fine work you did on the Pearson case. Bullock dropped it off in my hands almost as soon as I got off the plane. I'm told that Pearson made a plea and the DA's accepted. No appeals, no fuss, no muss. You keep pushing for that promotion, and I'm running out of excuses for not giving it to you. You want in homicide, you earned it. Congratulations, Detective." Gordon stood and shook her hand.

Montoya was amazed. She was in homicide now? It had been what she'd been working towards ever since she'd gotten out of the academy. Bullock's file? What on Earth was in it? She wanted to ask Gordon if she could see the file, but that would look suspicious. She had to go and ask Bullock what the hell was going on. But that meant TALKING to the guilt ridden cop.

Well, she was a homicide detective now, no way was she going to get squeamish on her first day! So she marched over to Bullock's sloppy desk. He was there, hunkered over a mound of paper, looking for a pencil.

A pencil appeared right under his nose and he looked up to see who had offered the item to him. His eyes dropped again to his desk and he hesitated before taking the pencil from the female cop he'd been trying to avoid for the past several days.

"I'm homicide now." She said in way of greeting.

Bullock managed to look pleased, "You do good work."

"So the file for the Pearson affair claims. I just wonder what those claims are."

"The truth. That report you gave me, I fished it outta the trash after… that… day. It was your report I turned in."

"Why?"

Bullock shrugged helplessly, "My way of apologizing. And besides, you DO do good work. Good work should be rewarded. No need to waste your talents where you stagnate. We need you out there, Montoya."

"That's about the nicest thing you've EVER said to me, Bullock." Montoya couldn't help but smile. "Thanks."

Bullock nodded quietly. The tension seemed to have suddenly evaporated… a clearing of the air. He watched her walk off, wondering at her strength.

The End


End file.
